Machinery Master
by HeCallsMeHisChild
Summary: Irkens have always been the masters of machinery, the technological terrors. Or have they? What are these strange vehicles following Zim and Dib? And why have they no drivers? First attempt at crossover. No romance. Possible ZADF.
1. Prologue

"GIR! GET OFF OF MY HEAD!"

"But you neeeeeeed hugs!" The manic SIR giggled as he clung to the alien's head. "I'mma cowboy! Whooheeeeee!!!"

Grunting in frustration, Zim finally managed to pry the bot from his head and held him at arm's length. "Why can't you behave and obey?" He shouted.

"I like you smiley!!!"

"I AM NOT SMILEY!"

GIR stuck his tongue out from his grin, and Zim sighed. There was no reasoning with him when he was like this. Tossing GIR onto the couch, where he had been resting minutes before the attack, Zim stomped off to the labs, muttering angry things in his native tongue.

"Always messing things up, always making messes, always playing in messes, always messing with messes and making things... messy! Is GIR so advanced that the Tallests had to lock his secret away in stupidity to keep the enemy from discovering it? But I've analyzed him for years, and haven't been able to come up with anything! Gah, foolishness. Idiocy. I need to build something, yes. That will help."

Upon reaching the labs, Zim pulled off his gloves and passed his claws over his tools fondly. _The Irken race may be mostly short, but we have the finest technology in the known universe,_ he mused. _Nothing can compare with our mechanical genius._

_Nothing._

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Outside, a shiny yellow car pulled up to the base, its motor ticking quietly. The driver's seat sat empty, and no form of life rested inside. And yet the car parked itself at the curb, watching. Waiting.


	2. Followed

"Master, I'm boooored."

"Go find Minimoose."

"Minimoose is eatin' chicken."

"Then go eat chicken."

"Not hungry."

The beaker Zim had been holding dropped to the floor, shattering. Zim stared in shock. "You... are not hungry? You, the endless meat consuming machine?" He knelt down, opening GIR's head to peer inside. "Your circuitry isn't any more scrambled than usual..."

"I'm bored! I wanna go play in th' park."

"Not now, GIR, I have work to--"

"WAUGH! WAAAAAAAUUUUUUUGH!!!!"

"ALRIGHT! We will walk some. But not for long."

"Yay!" GIR scampered off to don his doggy suit, and Zim scooped up the leash, resigned to the loss of several hours worth of work.

As they exited the house, Zim noted the earth-vehicle idling in front of his base. It did not matter to him, since he did not use earth-vehicles and his exit was not blocked, but he'd never seen one so... yellow. Shrugging, he let himself be led by GIR's happy, forward skip.

Lost in his thoughts, he followed after GIR in a zig-zag path to the park. As they neared the park, Zim's antennae twitched, picking up the low rumble of a vehicle. Glancing over his shoulder, he caught sight of the same yellow car that had parked in front of his base. Old training surfaced, and his senses came to life, analyzing scenarios and possibilities. The most likely possibility, he realized, was that he was being followed. Perhaps the Dib-stink had alerted the authorities! He chided himself for being ridiculous. Nobody believed that smelly hyuman. So who followed him?

Once in the park, he removed the leash from GIR. "Go run and play, but don't roll in smelly things this time!" Squealing with joy, GIR dashed off to follow a butterfly he'd seen. Zim, on the other hand, turned to glare at the car. Eyes narrowed, he stalked toward it, intent on discovering the identity of his pursuer. He gripped the edge of the passenger window, peering in, and saw no one. Confused, he extended a bio-scanner and ran it over the vehicle. Without warning, the scanner exploded, raining shrapnel on the startled Irken. He leapt back, eyes darting back and forth to find the source of his assailant, but the only inhabitants of the park were a few squirrels and frolicking dirt-children, now staring oddly at him. Scowling, he turned back to the car to spot it driving off with GIR in the backseat.

"Oh no you don't, you don't shoot at ZIM and just leave! And you certainly don't steal Irken machinery!" Unfolding his spiderlegs, he took off after the car. It didn't take long for him to catch up. In one fluid motion, he pulled out a lasergun and fired it into the back windshield. The beam glanced off, hitting a nearby power line. Zim cursed. _Nothing deflects a laser beam on this planet, nothing is sophisticated enough!_

The car screeched on its brakes, drifting sideways. The horrible stench of burned rubber filled Zim's senses as he was flung to the road. Dazed, he scrambled to his feet as the car peeled away, leaving Zim in a cloud of exhaust.

"FILTHY EARTHENOID CAR, GIVE ME BACK MY SIR!" He shook his fist in helpless rage as the echoes of his shouts died away, leaving him alone in silence.

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Dib glanced over his shoulder for the fifth time since leaving Skool. Sure enough, it was still there. He faced forward again, half convinced that this time he was insane. Every time he'd looked back, he'd seen a CD player sitting on the sidewalk behind him. Always the same position. Always the same distance from him.

"Okay, Dib, just keep walking. You're just hallucinating. Yeah, hallucinating that a CD player is following you around. Mhmm. That's all it is." He craned his neck, catching a glimpse of metal flashing in the sunlight. By the time he'd turned fully around, all he could see was the CD player. Still there.

"This is just freaky."

A yellow car tore down the street, plowing through a mud-puddle and splattering Dib. "HEY!" He yelled. "This is my favorite jacket! Jerk," he mumbled, then stopped at the sight of Zim, staggering after it, yelling in his alien language. He raised his voice. "Hey, space-boy, who's in that car anyway?"

Zim stumbled over to the sidewalk, plopping down. "If I knew, would I be chasing after it, stink-creature, or would I merely trace the name of the being to the dwelling-place?"

Smirking, Dib replied, "You'd chase it. You wouldn't think far enough ahead to trace it."

"SILENCE! You do not grasp the brilliance that is ZIM! Anyway, it stole my robot!"

Dib's eyebrows shot up. "GIR? Who'd be dumb enough to do that?"

"IF I KNEW WOULD I--"

"I was wondering out loud, Zim! Sheesh, you really need to take it down a notch. I still don't get why nobody else sees you're an alien."

"Because of my brilliant disguise, of course." Zim beamed.

Making a face, Dib sniped, "Hey, brilliant-disguise man, your wig is crooked."

"ARE YOU MOCKING ZIM?"

"Of course not." Dib snickered.

"Good. Then I shall let you live for now."

"Oh? What's the special occasion?"

"You will be helping me to discover the whereabouts of GIR."

"What? Uh-uh. No. No way. You didn't help me when I came to you about Gaz's pork problem, and I'm not helping you now. We're enemies, remember?"

Zim pulled out his laser, pointing it at Dib's head. "Yes, I remember very clearly. Would you like me to remember at this particular moment, or would you like me to be distracted by your offer to help me search for GIR?"

Pale, Dib stuttered, "H-hey, Zim, why don't I help you look for that dumb robot?"

"An excellent suggestion." Zim's eyes focused behind Dib's shoulder and narrowed. "Earth-creature, do sound-making machines often walk with you?"

The only thing Dib managed to say was, "Huh?" Before something hard slammed into his head, and his world faded to darkness.


	3. Deranged

**Note:** To those of you who predicted it, congratulations. Yes, this is an IZ/Transformers crossover. Die-hard fans of Transformers (cough, Sideos, cough) will have to forgive me, I've only seen the movie once so far, so if I'm off on a few things, extend grace. Oh, and go read Impossible by Joywillcome. It's her first fic in a long time, so give that story some luv! Personally, I find the premise intriguing...

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"Wake up, wake up. Weakling! Zim would not be brought down by such a small injury." Something was shaking Dib. He didn't want to open his eyes, his head hurt too much. One eyelid cracked open, allowing the sun to filter in. The sight of Zim bending over him doubled his headache and he groaned.

"What..."

"That noise-making machine, it attacked you."

Dib closed his eyes. "Now _you're _starting to sound crazy. CD players don't just up and attack people."

Zim scowled. "Well this one did, you imbecile. Launched straight at your gargantuan skull and knocked you to the ground. It jumped at Zim, but I had the SUPERIOR weaponry and wounded it. It limped away."

"Fine... whatever. I was attacked by a CD player, I'll play along, just to keep my sanity intact. So, any clues as to where your robot is?"

"That's what you're supposed to help me find out!"

"I thought Invaders didn't take help from lowly humans." Dib flinched at Zim's murderous glare. "Um... I mean... where'd you last see him?"

Zim hit his face with his hand, a surprisingly human gesture. "I can't believe how stupid... RIGHT OVER THERE WHERE YOU SAW ZIM CHASING THE CAR!"

"Hey, I just got hit on the head, remember?" Rubbing his throbbing cranium, Dib checked to make sure no other cars were bearing down on them, and trudged out to the middle of the street, crouching to eye the rubber burns.

"Weird," he muttered. He ran his finger over the marks, frowning. "Hey Zim, can you analyze this stuff?"

Zim hopped over and extended a scanner, peering at the results. "What are you wanting to know?"

"Whether that stuff is rubber or not. It doesn't look like the rubber burns I normally see when kids peel out in their cars."

Zim peered closely at the screen, entering information. "You're right... it's a foreign substance... its molecules closely resemble Vortian liquid."

Dib stared up. "What did you say?"

"I said its molecules--"

"No, before that... did you just say I was right about something?"

Growling, Zim cuffed Dib on the side of the head. "Silence Earth-stink!" Dib fell back, wincing, but grinning.

"So, Zim, if it isn't regular rubber, did other aliens kidnap the robot?"

"His name," Snapped Zim, "Is GIR, and I saw no driver in that vehicle!"

"It could have been remote controlled." Zim's mouth opened and closed. Dib merely grinned. "What, the mighty Invader didn't think of that himself?" His eyes widened, and he rolled to the side just in time to avoid Zim's spiderleg stabbing him to death. "Alright! Alright, lets' just find this... GIR."

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"WHEEEEE I like ponies, you like ponies? Ya got any chicken? I like chicken an' PIZZA wiv CHEESE an' stuff. Lady came by sellin' stuff, then she screamed an' ran, but I got her stuff! Made me aaaaall pretty. Ooooh, TAQUITOS! I like corn. Oh no, my muffins, THEY'RE BURNING AND I--butterfly!"

If it were possible, the car would have groaned. Only ten minutes, and this little machine had pushed every button, yanked every wire, and tried patience to the extreme. The radio flipped on to the local oldies station.

"OOOH! This is my faaaaavorite show!" GIR plopped in the back seat, giggling and bobbing his head. The car picked up speed. The less time spent in the company of this deranged robot, the better.


	4. Trackers

**Note:** Yes, I've been gone forever, forgive me. First I wanted to watch Transformers again before continuing, then I sort of hit a dry spot in writing. Can't say as I'm completely out of that dry spot yet, but I'll give this chapter a go. Watching my Zim DVDs for weeks has helped too. Good ol' Zim. Yes, this is a short chapter, sorry.

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Dib's finger traced a route on the Voot runner's navigational screen. "Whatever it was left a trail of that Vortian Liquid stuff you mentioned, it should lead us to where they took GIR. Do you have a cloaking device for this thing?"

"Of course." Zim's claws clicked across the controls. Dib eyed him pointedly.

"One that cloaks the ship _and_ us?"

Zim glared. "You being able to see me through the Megadoomer's cloaking device was part of my ingenious plan to destroy y--I mean, steal your camera."

Dib rolled his eyes. He knew better than to argue with Zim at this point, but he couldn't help noticing the alien's lack of threats and boasts. Occasionally Zim would even recheck his equipment, as if unsure of its accuracy.

_Unsure of his precious superior technology? Is he __**worried**__ about that robot?_

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"Fifteh-six bottles'a soap on tha wall, fifteh-six bottles'a MONKEHS!"

In the middle of nowhere, the car jerked to a halt, its passenger door flying open. Out tumbled GIR, in a cactus patch, still singing. The android half-turned. "Are we there yet?"

_Shink chunk clik lock nik shink chunk clik lock nik._

Before GIR's eyes, the car disassembled, reassembling into an impressive-sized robot, staring down at him.

"Star command, repeat, star command--I've had it with these--love child!"

GIR screamed, "I KNOW DAT SONG! Love child, never meant to be, love child, born in poverteeee..." As he sang, the ground began to shake. From the sands and dunes rose even larger robots. "One six five eight... three more! More frien's. Hey, anybody know Angry Monkey?" Abruptly, he flipped onto his head and began kicking his legs, screaming hysterically.

The yellow robot put its hands to the sides of its head. "Drove my chevy to the levy--this'll be the day that I die."

The largest robot stepped forward. "Bumblebee, control yourself. It can't have been that hard. These units are small, but not difficult to subdue."

A rather menacing looking one stepped forward. "Optimus, in with the others?"

GIR's screaming reached a frequency above human hearing, and all the bots stumbled back. Without warning, GIR curled up in the sands and fell sound asleep. The one called Optimus crouched by him.

"No, Ironhide, that will not be necessary. This one is different, we need to study him. Maybe he has the answers we're looking for."

"Mayday, mayday!" Urged Bumblebee, pointing in the distance. "Here be pirates--looking for--my little runaway!"  
Optimus sighed heavily. "Ironhide, you know what to do."

A dark chuckle rumbled from the robot's chest. "Bring the machinery back, leave the organic." He stomped the ground once, then leaped off, running toward the distant speck.

"Dead men tell no tales!" Bumblebee called.

"Bumblebee!" Scolded Optimus. The yellow one shrugged sheepishly.

"Ya got any of them burritos?" Yawned GIR.


	5. PAK

**Note:**I'm sorry I take so long updating. A lot of things have come up, one of which involves me having to take care of myself for my mental health. I'm starting to see why writers like Silvia Plath wrote such dark works. Sometimes the written word is the only way it can come out. Anyway, I've not given up writing, and here is the next chapter. The word-count on this version of Word is shot, so I can't judge how long this will be. I don't like this laptop much. (continues whining for another four pages.)

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"Uh, Zim?"

The alien growled, his eyes fastened on the Voot's controls. "Not now, Earth-stink, I'm busy." The child's incessant pointing of the finger forward and shocked expression annoyed Zim. What was there to see around but miles of sand? The controls were the thing to look at. They could pick up any trace of any oncoming...

"ZIM!" Dib reached over and yanked the steering control, wrenching the Voot off-course to the right. Zim shoved him back, hard.

"What do you think you are doing? Have you the brainworms?! Zim has everything perfectly under... con..." His words trailed off as he finally looked up. To what was now their left, a gigantic robot skidded to a halt, raking trenches in the sand, and thundered after them. They'd nearly piloted right into its hands.

Zim grabbed the controls while Dib gripped the seat rests. "Brace yourself, hyuman." Flipping a switch and plotting a course with his claw on a screen, he mumbled, "Releasing missiles one and two. How did that thing not show up on my scanners?"

Two dots of light burst from the tail end of the cruiser, spiraling toward their pursuer. Zim's grin vanished as the robot leaped a dozen yards off the ground, twisting and aiming its arm at the dots. With two shots, it had the missiles neutralized before it hit the ground. Rolling easily to its feet, it continued the chase.

"That was so cool!" Dib beamed. "Fire more!"

"Don't display your stupidity," snapped Zim. "This robot obviously knows the weapons capability of this cruiser, which is limited, and is prepared for anything I could fire. Gah, I hate this planet!"

"Hey, those robots didn't come from here! I think..." Dib protested.

"It doesn't matter where they came from, what matters is I can't get rid of that thing!"

"Try flying crazy, maybe it'll get confused."

"Hah, right. You've been watching too many space-films, earth-monkey, and that's the only place where that works. Flying crazy only gets you killed in real life."

"Got a better plan?" Challenged Dib.

"I am ZIM! I always have a better plan." The alien brought the cruiser to a stop, throwing Dib forward into the shielding bubble.

"OW! You jerk!" Dib slid down, rubbing his forehead and blinking. "I see stars."

Throwing open the Voot's top, Zim clambered out on spiderlegs and raised himself up to confront the robot that now towered over him, aiming a disturbingly large glowing arm cannon.

"Hey! Quit it! Why are you chasing us? I am an Irken Elite soldier, and I demand that you--HEY!"

In one swift move, the robot grabbed Zim by the spiderlegs with one hand and, as the other arm reformed into a hand, took the alien's body in the other. Zim squawked in anger. "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING? RELEASE ME OR SUFFER THE WRATH OF ZIM! YOU WON'T GET AWAY WITH--" Zim's eyes opened fully and his mouth formed a small "o". The robot plopped Zim down in the sand, and took off into the desert.

Dib clambered out, landing ungracefully beside Zim. "What was that all about? What did it--oh my gosh... Zim!"

The alien sprawled on his stomach, shivering. The back of his uniform was torn, and green blood oozed from two gaping holes in his back where his metal PAK usually was. Dib spun around, frantically searching for the PAK, but it was nowhere to be seen.

A weak call drew his attention back to Zim. The Irken was shaking violently, and emitting deep, cough-like noises, each one adding to the blood in front of his face.

"Dib... my PAK... robot has it." Zim licked his lips, an expression close to fear on his face. "Need it... can't live without it... so cold..."

Dib glanced up at the sky, noting the setting sun. The temperature was dropping, but not too badly. "Your PAK had a temperature regulator, I'll bet."

Hoarsely, Zim snapped, "And a life support... system... hurry!"

"Huh? Oh, yeah! Um..." Grimacing, Dib took off his jacket and wrapped the alien in it, hauling him up. "Sheesh, you hardly weigh anything, that PAK must be really heav--"

"Shut up and go!"

"Okay, sheesh, you're pushy for a dying alien." But Dib closed his mouth and took off in the direction of the robot. It vaguely occured to him that he should be happy Zim was dying, but he shoved the thought aside. If anyone was going to bring Zim to justice, it would be him, not some oversized tinker-toy set. Besides, any human knew there was something wrong with just standing back and letting someone die. Keeping his eyes fixed on the massive footprints in front of him, he pressed on.

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"Well, Ironhide?" Optimus glanced up from the monkey dance GIR had insisted on performing for him.

Ironhide tossed Optimus a small metal object. "Idiot Irken tried to fire missiles, then came out in plain view and demanded to know what I wanted. Arrogant little lizards, all of 'em." Optimus raised a hand abruptly, cutting off his weapon specialist's tirade.

"And the organic?"

"He made noise, but once the machine was off him he got quiet. Probably ten minutes, like the rest."

A heavy sigh emitted from the leader's vocal circuitry. "A whole race going extinct. But it has to be done, the Decepticon plot has progressed too far with their kind to be reversed without permanent damage."

Solemnly, Bumblebee broadcast, "For the greater good, sacrifices must be made--" before sadly breaking into a mournful trumpeter's taps. He broke off, eyes focusing on something in the distance. Turning his head toward Prime, he remarked, "Return to sender."

Prime glanced up. "What? Oh." Heaving himself to his feet, he shook the sand from his joints. "You didn't say there was another, Ironside."

"The other is a human, he had nothing of interest."

"It appears this human isn't quite through with you."

"Shall I dispatch him?" Ironhide asked eagerly. A stern glance from Optimus powered him down. "Just wanted to try out my cannons," he sulked, "It's been a while."

"Bumblebee, go bring them here. Let's see what they want."

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Dib gulped. Being attacked, carried, and stared down by larger than life mechanical beings was more than a little unnerving, but Zim's time was running out. Dib had only been following the footprints for five minutes when the bright yellow car he'd seen before pulled up beside him, scooped him and Zim into itself with the passenger door, and roared up to the others. Unceremoniously dumping them out, it had proceeded to reconfigure itself into its rightful form. Now, Dib stood face-to-face with the one that called itself Optimus Prime as it crouched to inspect him. Four minutes had passed, and Zim had slipped into a coma-like state.

"No time like the present," Dib muttered to himself. "Look, Mr. Optimus, I... uh... well... you see, you have something this alien needs. He's... uh... dying. Yeah. He's dying, and he needs that metal thing back."

Optimus' face took on a weary expression. "I'm sorry, human child. We cannot return the machinery. It must be permanently disabled."

"What? Why? You gotta give it back, he'll die!" Dib's voice rose in pitch.

"I understand you're upset, but it's a necessary--"

"MASTER!!!" From behind Prime's leg darted GIR. Latching onto Zim's head, he screeched, "Master, not true! Not true, no die! No you die, not good not good! My fault? I be good, never be bad no more sorry! Wakey!" He frantically shook Zim's shoulders as Dib adjusted his grip.

"Look, we can't let him die! I don't care where you are or who you're from, you can't just walk around ripping things off people's backs! You--what the heck?"

GIR's eyes were closed in intense concentration. Slowly, his features began to blur. His eye bulbs retraced into his head, his arms sucked in the hands and became hollow, and the legs opened up. A mass of wires and cables burst out of his chest, piercing through Zim's skin and uniform. Out of his head came a clear plastic mask that sealed around Zim's face, and GIR's now indistinct frame began to radiate heat.

Dib nearly dropped them, but carefully set them down. "Wow. What's that about?"

"It appears," mused a fourth robot, lifting his head from behind a sand dune, "The little one turned himself into life-support. Optimus, you're right. This one _is_ different, maybe he's the key."

Dib threw his arms in the air. "WILL SOMEBODY PLEASE TELL ME WHAT IS GOING ON?!"

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**Note:** Please recall the complete absence of ZADR in this story. Don't read between the lines. Oh, and can anybody tell me the name of the medical specialist robot in Transformers? I forgot.


	6. Explanation

**Note:** Thank you Dr. Neff for the name of the robot, Ratchet. Apologies for any errors in the brief retelling of what happened in the movie Transformers.

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"So, let me get this straight. You guys are Autobots from a planet that got destroyed, you're the good guys, and you're fighting the Decepticons, the bad guys?" Dib nodded shakily. "I'm with you so far."

Optimus had settled into a sitting position to tell his story. "We had one such battle with them here, on Earth. There was a mechanism called the All-Spark which could repopulate or destroy an entire planet. The Decepticons wanted to use it to wipe out all life on this planet and replace the inhabitants with our kind, but a very brave human destroyed the All-Spark and the leader of the Decepticons at the same time. Unfortunately, that did not stop all of them. They continue working to establish themselves on all worlds they come upon. What did I say that was funny?"

Dib bit his lip, trying to keep back a snicker. "I'm sorry, it's just, they sound an awful lot like Irkens."

"Ah, and that is where our story and yours intersect." Optimus rotated his shoulders and leaned forward. "For several years now we have been monitoring the race known as the Irkens. We detained and questioned several, but each one destroyed itself before much could be gathered. Ratchet," He motioned to the robot stretched out behind the sand-dune, "My medical expert, detected extreme dread and a rise in fear each time, right before action was taken. Usually, if a soldier of any race has orders to commit suicide on being caught, they do so with resignation, or even anger and defiance. But the presence of so much fear leads us to believe that these soldiers did not do this of their own free will."

"You mean they're being remote-controlled or something?"

"Something. Eventually, we took a chance. Ironhide was the first to catch an Irken and remove mechanical aid, which you know as a PAK. Within minutes, it died." Prime's eyes closed for a moment, as if replaying the moment. "It was not an enjoyable sight. Ratchet tried to keep it alive, but we don't know enough about Irkens to be of help." Opening his eyes, he sighed. "So we scanned the PAK for information, but could only gather scattered bits before it exploded. What we did decipher drove us to find more Irkens and learn from their PAKs. After a dozen attempts, we finally pieced together what had happened.

"The Irkens had been a primitive race, intelligent, but mute and peaceful. The first Decepticon team that landed on the surface convinced the Irken leaders that they could advance the Irken race, and offered a gift to prove their intentions. By the time the leaders realized what was happening, it was too late. With the PAKs attached to their backs, they were little more than puppets for the Decepticons, who began calling themselves The Control Brains. Through the Irken leaders, all Irkens were ordered to don PAKs, and, though bewildered by the order, they did so. Generations later, they had become a battle-hungry domineering race, ready to stretch to other planets and enslave them, completely unaware that their every action and thought was produced by the Control Brains.

"Once or twice a century, there would be an Irken generated whose will was strong enough to fight the will of the Brains, but they were labeled Defective and exiled or killed. When they discovered they could remove their PAKs, they attempted to spread this information. To circumvent a mass uprising, the Control Brains modified the PAKs, weakening the Irken immune system to the point where they were dependant on the PAK for survival, even on their own planet.

"Invaders became a key element in their plans for conquest, but once away from the influence of the Brains, Invaders often questioned their mission and rebelled. The Brains instituted a new system, where each Invader would be equipped with a Standard Information Retrieval unit, a small robot. The PAK is merely a remote-control, but each SIR unit is a fully functioning member of our race. Though in the guise of servants, their mission was to make sure the Invaders stay focused on the mission, and to eliminate any opposition the Irken might encounter."

"So what went wrong with Zim's robot?" Dib eyed GIR's warm, glowing form uncertainly. "I mean... I've been Zim's enemy forever, and GIR hasn't done anything remotely harmful to me. The worst he's done is eat my cameras and pelt me with sandwiches."

"I have examined him thoroughly," Optimus rumbled in an amused tone, "And I've come to the conclusion that he was malproduced. From his rather scattered memory bits we can conclude that his 'Master', Irken Invader Zim, is one of the Defectives I mentioned before, and that GIR was meant to be a hindrance, a joke." His gaze rested on the silent SIR's new form. "They underestimated him. Even Zim underestimated him. He has the brain of an ant, but the heart of a child. He is a Decepticon machine, but he has no interest in their plots. He may be able to help us stop them, unlike the others."

"Others?" Dib repeated.

"Yes. Each Invader we encountered was accompanied by a SIR. Those that didn't escape refused to speak, unless we tried to scan them for information. Then they would threaten to explode themselves if we attempted it again. For now, we've contained them all in a holding field in the middle of this desert, miles from here."

Dib uncrossed his legs, cocking his head thoughtfully. "That's an awful lot to think about, Mr. Prime."

"Optimus. My name is Optimus. And you are Big-Headed Boy?"

"My head isn't big! And no, that's not my name! Who told you it was?"

"We gathered that from GIR's memories."

"Oh. Well. It's not," Dib muttered sulkily. "My name is Dib."

"Ah. Dib. It is an honor to meet you. You showed courage in bringing your friend to us--"

"He's NOT my friend."

"Not your friend?"

"Right."

"Then why did you bring him?"

Dib shrugged, kicking a rock. "It didn't feel right leaving him there."

Optimus nodded slowly. "I understand. Despite that, you still showed courage. Ratchet, come. I'd like an update on Zim's condition."

The bot heaved himself up and lumbered over. A blue line of light flashed from his eyes and passed up and down Zim and GIR's forms. When it blinked off, Ratchet responded, "The Irken male has passed out of critical condition and is stable. In a few hours he will be able to function without life support, but changes are occuring in his DNA structure."

"What sort of changes?"

"I do not have enough information on the normal state of Irkens to theorize at this point. But the change should be evident within a day, and complete by the end of the week."

"This... it can't... be true..." Even muffled, the voice drew the attention of Dib and every robot. Zim's mouth worked weakly behind the mask. "Can't... filthy lies... Control Brains... good... made by Irkens... I'm not... Defective... I'm normal... GIR is advanced... I..." A small trail of goo oozed from his right eye. "You're... all lying..."

For the first time, Dib felt a pang of sympathy for Zim. A small one, granted, but a pang nonetheless. It seemed there really wasn't _anywhere_ in the universe for an outcast. His thoughts drifted to the endless teasing from his classmates, the beatings from his sister, and the media's mockery of any evidence he tried to present. "That doesn't excuse you," Dib murmured, "But I get it. I get why."

"Wha?" Zim croaked.

Dib shook himself. "Nothing. Nothing. I was talking out loud to myself again."

"You... need to... get that... under... control, stink-beast..."

"As soon as you stop talking about yourself in third person, spaceboy."

Ratchet raised a hand. "Please, cease all conversation, the Irken is not yet stable enough to attempt speech. No," He took a stern tone against Zim's protests, "You will remain silent or I will alter your chemical composition such that you will not regain consciousness for a month."

Zim lapsed into moody silence, but Dib wasn't satisfied.

"Alright, so you've got this whole story outlined, but we're missing something here. How do you expect to solve the problem?"

"We go in, cannons blazing, and blow 'em all out!" Ironhide butted in, glowing.

Bumblebee groaned. "--Gonna drive me to drinkin'--Hotrod Lincoln.--Give peace a chance--"

"Bumblebee is right," Optimus concurred. "We're trying to find a solution that will not harm the Irkens, but so far we've been unsuccessful. But this SIR seems likely to cooperate with us--"

"IF you can get an intelligible train of thought from him." Quipped Dib.

"True, but he's more likely than the others. And with a live Irken... well, perhaps now that he's not under the control of the Decepticons he will be more prepared to give us the information we need."

"What kind of information do you need anyway?"

"The wherabouts of the Control Brains. If they fall, so does the entire network of puppeteering. This would leave the Irkens the life support in their PAKs minus the foreign control. It's the best we have at the moment."

"I still say we go in, guns blazing." Grumbled Ironhide.

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**Note:** Yes, I know the Irkens stole their technology from the Vortians... I've decided to take reasonable creative license this time. Don't shoot me.


	7. Growths

**Note:** Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

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_Whirrrrr. Click click click clickety clickety snik leck bik. Shoom._

He congratulated himself for scanning the build of a motorized model airplane. CD players, he'd soon realized, lacked the capacity to travel, and he needed to cover distance quickly.

Trailing the human and Irken to the Autobots undetected had been the difficult part. Siphoning off the Voot Runner's cloaking device for himself, he'd hung onto the back end until he'd caught sight of Ironhide. Conserving his cloaking, he'd dropped down and waited till the human began following Ironhide's footsteps.

Once in range of the Autobots, he'd detected the faint transmissions he'd been scanning for. Every second in the air strengthened the signal he trailed. He didn't dare transmit an answer, the Autobots were too near.

_We spent too much time on Irkens for them to mess up our plans._

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"I'M GOING TO DIE! I'M GOING TO DIE!"

Dib jerked awake, shaking sand from his hair. Yawning, he fumbled in his pockets for glasses and slipped them on. "It's a little early for dramatics, Zim."

"I'M GOING TO DIE!!!!" The alien darted back and forth, circling round and round. GIR followed, laughing his head off and echoing Zim.

Ratchet lifted his head, glancing at Dib. "Could you make him stop? I've attempted every method of communication with him to explain the impossibility of his demise any time soon, but nothing will assure him due to his lack of a PAK and the abnormal growths on his back."

Dib blinked. "Growths?" He shrugged. "Yeah, I'll help." Pushing himself to his feet, he ambled over and placed himself in the alien's path. On seeing him, Zim darted over and siezed Dib by the shoulders.

"THIS IS YOUR FAULT, YOU DID THIS TO ME, DIDN'T YOU? WHERE'S MY PAK, GIVE IT BACK! I NEED MY PAK YOU FOOL, I NEED--"

Zim never saw the blow that knocked him to the ground, but he felt Dib's fist connect with his lower jaw. He sprang to his feet, teeth bared, ready to tear the hyuman apart, but he paused. Rotating his jaw, he analyzed the situation. He had just been dealt a blow to the jaw which, under normal circumstances, would have shattered it. Having studied hyuman anatomy, he'd found their bone structure to be stronger and more dense than Irken bones, and all previous fights with Dib had left him with multiple fractures. It had never mattered, the nanobots from his PAK had always sped up the healing process, but now, even without the nanobots, his bones were all intact. The injured area felt tender, but he could find no break. In fact, he realized, he had been without his PAK for a day, and off of life support for a half hour.

"I'm... not dead..." he stated hesitantly.

"Wow, you just realized?" Dib deadpanned.

Ignoring him, Zim continued. "I'm not dead, I'm alive even without my PAK. But..." His arms twisted around to feel behind him, and for the first time, Zim's problem became apparant to Dib.

From under the fluttering rags of Zim's uniform, near each shoulderblade, protruded two bony growths, no more than two inches long, with five spindly extensions at the ends. Worse, from Zim's hindquarters trailed...

Dib burst out laughing. "Wow, Zim. Who's the monkey now? Gee, maybe the one with the tail?"

Zim threw a fistful of sand. "This is not funny! I demand to know what is happening!"

GIR giggled. "I made you better."

Zim craned his neck to stare at the bot. "What?"

"I made you better."

"How?"

GIR squinted, and a faint trail of smoke wafted from his head as he attempted to think. "Your bloods... no protection. Bones too thin. Bad stuffs in your bloods. I clean bloods, make bones grow more. CHICKEN!!!!"

Zim blinked, confused. "What?"

"Perhaps I can explain," offered Ratchet. "Really what he did was quite remarkable. Your PAK had all but obliterated your immune system and drained all density from your bones. On top of that, it mixed toxins in with your blood that would have killed you had you attempted to remove it for good. Your friend here, by filtering out the toxins, managed to trigger a metamorphosis that is returning you to the physical state of your early ancestors."

"Hey," Dib interrupted, "When did GIR turn back anyway?"

"During your slumber cycle," Ratchet responded. "He sensed Zim's stability returning to normal and returned to his own form."

"What does that matter?" Zim shrieked. "I want to know what these things are!"

Ratchet swung a massive finger to point at Zim's rear. "That," he smiled, "will be a tail. These," he motioned to the spindly stubs, "I have theories, but I'd like to see them grow a bit before--"

"TELL ZIM NOW!"

Ratchet started a bit at the Irken's ferocity. "Is he always like this?"

Dib nodded. "You'll get used to it."

Ratchet sighed and explained as gently as he could. "The structural formation of skin, bones, and muscles forming on your back have every appearance and promise of becoming hide-bound wings, with full flight capability."

Plopping down in the sand, Dib shook his head in disbelief. "Man oh man, can this day get any weirder?"

"I'M NEKKED!" Screamed GIR, rolling in the sand.

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"It's taken long enough!" Grumbled a SIR. "We've been sending signals out for months now."

"Quiet! This force field dampened your signals, they don't carry more than twenty miles. You're lucky I found you at all."

"So crack it open already!"

"I'm working on it! The second it's open, you all scatter. They'll know the moment it's been breached."

"Just set us loose, we'll take care of the rest."

With a grin, Frenzy plugged into the small box by the containment unit and set to work.


	8. Wings

Perched on a small boulder, Dib crouched with his chin in his hand. Allowing his eyes to become unfocused, he took in the desert sunset. Only a speck of piercing light on the horizon reminded him that night did not yet have dominion as its warm, orange light spilled across the sands.

"Horrible, awful, hateful place."

Ignoring Zim, Dib watched the last arms of light reach out, before being absorbed by the unforgiving horizon.

"This never would have happened if I'd been assigned to Vort."

"Uh-huh."

"I'd have been allowed to fire the first organic sweep by the end of the month."

"You don't say."

"I hate this place, I wish it would explode!"

"That's great, Zim."

"A host of enemies is easy to conquer, but one stinking weasely little rat of an enemy can creep into all sorts of places he isn't wanted!"

"Shut up, Zim."

"Awwwww, somebody needs a hug!"

"Thim, et our soopid wobot off my ace."

"GIR, leave the filthy beast alone, you'll get horrible diseasy germs all over yourself."

"YAAAAAAAAY, BLUE-BONNETS PLAGUE!"

"Bubonic," Dib corrected automatically.

"Yes, yes, one of the many lectures given by Ms. Bitters that none of us listened to but you, stupid creature," scoffed Zim.

"Hey, space dragon, why don't you fly back home already? You've got the wings."

It was true. The day had passed slowly, with Zim developing under the watchful eyes of Ratchet and GIR running circles around Optimus, who was still attempting to pry useful information from the android. By sunset, the growths had lengthened from stumpy knobs to long, sinewy limbs. Dark green leathery membrane stretched over the bone structures, and Zim had grown just enough to accommodate his new appendages. From tip to tip, the three and a half foot alien boasted an eight foot wingspan and a three foot tail.

Zim snapped, "You think just because I have wings I magically know how to fly? Imbecile, I'm barely able to lift them let alone get them to lift me!"

Dib scowled at him, and pleaded to Ratchet, "Why are you wasting time on him? You have GIR, right? Just send us home."

Ratchet shook his head ponderously. "Optimus Prime has requested all three of you to remain indefinitely. He has questions for Zim as well as GIR, and perhaps even for you."

"Me? I don't know anything about the way they work. I've tried to find out but aside from basic PAK functions, I haven't been able to get anything." He shot a venomous glance at Zim.

Ratchet shrugged, and turned to Zim. "Allow me to explain the technicalities and basic maneuvers you will be using in flight."

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Optimus prime prided himself on his patience and ability to stay calm in many situations. It's what had set him apart as a leader, but every second spent with GIR drove him closer and closer to an explosion of massive proportions.

"GIR, it is of the utmost importance that you tell us the locations of the Control Brains!"

"BRAAAAAAAINS! Once Master promised I could eat Big-Head's brains, but I never got 'em. But I got JELLY BEANS!"

Prime dug his hands deep into the sand, willing himself not to crush the bot. "GIR, please concentrate. The world needs you to concentrate!"

"I WANNA PONY!" Not standing on ceremony, GIR hopped up to Optimus' head and began whooping and cheering like a cowboy.

Lowering his head to the ground, Optimus rumbled, "This is so humiliating."

A large metal hand jerked him around to face his weapons specialist.

"The Bots are running loose! I'm sensing their signals scattering out, there's no telling what they could do!" He mustered up the most pleading look a three ton hunk of metal could manage.

Optimus closed his eyes tiredly, then reopened them. "Alright Ironhide. Get your gun out, we're going after them."

"Alright!" Cheered Ironhide, whipping out his arm cannon.

Bumblebee waved his arms. "—I like to move it move it—got a gun!"

"Bumblebee, you stay here with Ratchet. Keep an eye on this." Plucking GIR from his head, Prime set him on Bumblebee's shoulder.

Horrified at the prospect of being saddled with insanity incarnate, Bumblebee pleaded, "—you ran away and I got on my knees and begged you not to leave because I'd go beserk!—take me back—I seen fire an' I seen rain—one tin soldier rides again!"

"No, Bumblebee. Stay with GIR."

Groaning, Bumblebee plopped to the ground as Optimus and Ironside rolled out as trucks.

"I like corn," giggled GIR. "I dew."

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"Peculiar," murmured Ratchet. "I did not expect this."

"WHO CARES WHAT YOU EXPECTED?" Zim screamed. "JUST GET IT TO STOP!"

Awed, Dib responded quietly, "I don't think he can do anything about this."

"It is BEYOND indignity for an Invader to CRAWL ON ALL FOURS!"

"Looks like you don't have much choice."

Zim twisted awkwardly, attempting to stand upright, but toppled forward. "WHAT'S HAPPENING?"

"According to the readout data," observed Ratchet, "Your joints are realigning themselves. I did not expect the physical metamorphosis to accelerate, but it cannot continue much longer."

"WHY IS MY BODY DOING THIS TO ME?" Zim bawled, sprawling in the sand. "I JUST WANT TO BE NORMAL!"

Dib opened his mouth, then shut it, swallowing a smart remark. Trudging over to Zim, he squatted down. "Hey, spaceboy." Zim refused to respond. "What's your problem?" At this, the alien jerked his head up, glaring at Dib.

"What's my problem? WHAT'S MY PROBLEM? MY BODY IS REVOLTING AGAINST ME AND YOU ASK WHAT'S MY PROBLEM!!!"

Dib shook his head. "You're such an idiot, Zim. Do you know how many humans would kill for the ability to fly?"

"AND IF YOU THINK FOR ONE SECOND THAT I—huh?"

"Mankind has been trying to fly for centuries. Sure, we've got airplanes and spaceships, but do you know how many people look up at the skies every day and wish they had wings? So they could just fly away from everything?" Dib stood back up. "Don't blow this, Zim. You've got no idea how awesome wings can be."

Scowling, the Irken struggled to his four-footed position. His hip and shoulder sockets had repositioned themselves to fit this stance, and his claws grew longer by the hour. Dib peered at him. "Hey, Zim, what's up with your face?"

"What idiotic earth expression is that? My face is not up, it is downwards!"

"I mean what's happening to it?"

"I THOUGHT YOU SAID THIS WAS OVER!" Zim shrieked at Ratchet.

"I said it was _almost_ over."

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**Note:** Happy New Year!


	9. Insanity

"Really, there's no need to shriek like that, there won't be any more transformations."

"Good luck getting him to shut up, Ratchet," Dib winced as Zim's shrill rose an octave, "The only person he really listens to is himself."

"Can't you hit him again?"

"Why can't _you_?"

"If I hit him it would cause irreparable damage to his being, possibly killing him."

"So?"

"Earthling," Ratchet chided sternly, "He doesn't know what's happening, he is merely experiencing heightened sensations of adrenaline, tension, and--"

"Fear, I get it, Zim's scared."

Zim's screams cut off as abruptly as they'd started. He swung his head toward Dib, blood-red eyes flashing angrily. With great difficulty, he forced his reformed mouth to make words.

"F-hoooolisss m...mon-kheee. Ss...Ss..Z...im issssss neeeeeeveerrr sssscare!"

"Then how do you explain running in circles and screaming like a banshee?"

"Z--him no baaaaanshhheee. Mouf!"

Zim's normally flat face had restructured itself, producing a two inch snout lined with razor sharp teeth. His eyes had moved apart, each to one side, and his antennae had lengthened.

Dib stared at him, musing, "I wonder if your ancestors inspired dragon legends on Earth." At Zim's renewed squawks, the boy glared. "Save your breath, you obviously can't speak normally right now, just wait and keep trying later. You'll get used to it eventually... maybe. Hey Bumblebee, what's going on? Where's Optimus and Ironhide?"

Mournfully, the yellow robot mumbled, "--On the hunt, I'm after--domo arigato Mister Roboto--"

Dib frowned in confusion. "Huh?"

GIR popped up from behind Bumblebee's head. "All the other robots 'scaped!" He giggled and slid down to the waiting arm.

The boy's eyes widened. "What? And nobody told us?!"

Ratchet glanced down. "Why should they? What can you do?"

Dib scowled. "For one thing, I've been stalking aliens for two... three years now, and for another... um... I just know stuff, okay? I could help somehow! Shut up Zim."

Zim sat back on his haunches, laughing loudly and pointing an elongated claw at him.

"WHEW! I wanna go CRAZEEEE!" GIR trumpeted.

"You _are_ crazy, GIR." Dib snapped.

"No, I wanna go MORE crazee, like when I was makin' Mimi INSANE!"

Abruptly, Zim stopped laughing, his antennae lifted straight up. He blinked once, twice. Somehow, even with an extended mouth, he managed to form an evil grin. "Miiighteee ssZiiim hassss plahn!"

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"You can't win, Optimus." The one and a half foot robot faced the gigantic autobot, brimming with smugness. "Just turn and leave, and stop chasing us."

Ironhide growled, aiming his cannon, but Prime grabbed his arm. "Stop! You'll hit the others."

Frozen in fear, dozens of civilians stood close to the SIR unit, compelled by his threat to shoot them down with his lasers. The only thing keeping him from Prime's grasp was the threat of him self-destructing in the middle of the crowd, where he would take several human lives and permanently scar the survivors.

The SIR's grin widened. "That's right. Just walk away. Go on. We'll leave the hyumans alone, but the Irkens are ours. They always have been, they always--CHICKEN!!!!"

Optimus' eyes fixed on the SIR, confused. Its eyes had suddenly mellowed to a cyan color, and it was dancing on its head.

"I'm gonna eat da CRAZY TACO! Gimme a banana! Oh, oh Bummelbee, 'at's my favorite song! I need a mi-ra-cle, please lemme beeee your girl, ooh ooh OOH, lookit a lizard!"

The SIR darted out from the crowd, pointing at a sewer grate. "Awww, lizard went down da hole. MONKEES!"

The last thought that crossed its mind before it was vaporized by Ironhide's cannon was that it had never tasted toe jam, and that it might be good to try.

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Even a mile from the Autobot's temporary base of operations, Prime could hear a heated debate.

"Admit it, it was the glorious genius of ZIM!"

"Nuh-uh, it wouldn't have been so glorious if I hadn't been here to hook GIR up to Bumblebee's transmitter."

"Hah, ridiculous fool, I could have managed with my claws."

"Those things? Hah, maybe for severing wires and tearing things up, but you can't handle delicate machinery anymore!"

"Ohh you little pig-weasel!"

"Watch it! Man, I wish your snout would grow more so you'd shut up."

"WORM!"

"Augh! Ratchet, help!"

"I'm busy at the moment, do not distract me."

By the time the two autobots arrived, Zim had Dib pinned down and looked ready to eat him, and Ratchet had Bumblebee in a sort of headlock, attempting to keep him still. GIR was nowhere to be seen.

"Ratchet, report. What is happening?" He asked sternly.

Grunting, Ratchet replied, "The Irken told us of a time GIR had caused another SIR unit to go insane, even from a remote location, so the human wired GIR into Bumblebee's transmission system to send out his insanity."

Alarmed, Ironhide rumbled, "But his transmission system is... in..."

"His head," Ratchet finished, tightening his grip on the squirming autobot. "Yes, and ever since then we've had GIR on a larger scale, in control of radio. Please tell me something was accomplished."

"Well..." Prime began, then stopped. Across the desert, walking hand in hand, was a line of SIR units, singing as one, "Why can't we be friends, why can't we be friends?"

Ironhide chuckled. "Well, I'll be--"

"Zim! Get your teeth out of the human boy's shoulder, we're not through with either of you!" Barked Optimus.

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**Note: **Eh, not what I'd like it to be, but I know I've needed to update this. Probably one or two more chapters.


	10. Epilogue

Gingerly, Dib prodded his shoulder. Aside from a light scar, little evidence was left that Zim had buried his teeth there.

"Thanks Ratchet. Looks okay now."

"Good."

Dib twisted his neck to glance behind him. Zim sat several yards away on a rock, brooding, his tail curled around him and his wings sprawled out.

"Hey Ratchet, what's gonna happen to him?"

"I don't know. The decision is his."

"So, the SIRs cooperated?"

Optimus prime answered, "It was still difficult to obtain information from them, but at least they aren't exploding themselves. We know the main locations of the Control Brains, and they don't know we're looking for them. We have the element of surprise, and that's all we'll need."

Ironhide sulked. "I wanted to blow 'em all to kingdom come."

Prime allowed a small smile. "I think reprogramming them to mimic GIR serves our purposes better. They'll scatter among the Irkens and replicate what GIR did, returning the Irken body to its original form."

Dib ran a hand through his hair. "So… I helped save the world?"

"Not just the world. You helped preserve an entire species." Ratchet fairly glowed with excitement.

Dib turned to watch Zim. "It's gonna be hard for him to adjust, huh?" he mused. "Hey, Spaceboy."

Zim's antennae twitched, but he didn't move.

"What are you gonna do now?"

Zim's antennae lowered, and he laid himself down, chin resting on his crossed forearms.

"I'll take that as an I-don't-know. Ever thought about going back? If you _were_ a defective before this, you'll be a hero now. You were one of the ones resisting the Control Brains, even if you didn't know it. And you can explain to the Irkens what's going on."

Zim turned his head slightly, his eyes focused on a patch of sand. His eyes shifted to Dib's, a hopeful gleam in them. He hadn't spoken since the completion of his transformation, but Ratchet assured Dib it was only because that was the original state of Irkens. Mute.

Dib smiled encouragingly. "They'll be thrilled to have you, Zim. You know what's going on. You've got a new mission now."

Prime added, "We can take you to the nearest Irken-occupied planet. We need to dismantle the Control Brian there, and you can explain to your kind. We'll take you with us as we go."

"AND ME???"

"And you, GIR."

"WHEEEEEEE!"

Prime stood, shaking the sand from his joints. Nearby, a host of SIR units readied their jets. "Autobots?"

The others stood as well. Bumblebee transformed into a small spacecraft and opened a door for Zim. GIR hopped in, giggling. Zim moved hesitantly toward Dib. Dib stepped back, worried Zim would bite him again, but the alien took the edge of Dib's shirt in his teeth and tugged. Dib froze.

"…. Me? Come?"

The Irken nodded.

"But… Gaz… Dad…"

Zim's eyes narrowed in scorn.

"…Earth…"

Zim's mouth pulled into a disgusted sneer.

"Yeah… they never really cared anyway." Dib grinned widely. "Okay Spaceboy. Somebody needs to translate for you anyway."

Zim butted Dib's stomach with his snout, then turned and clambered into Bumblebee. Rubbing the already-forming bruise, Dib followed. The door whirred shut, and Prime ordered, "Move out."

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**Note:** Okay, so not the best chapter, but I wanted to end a story I've left hanging for way, way too long. Especially since I haven't seen the second Transformers movie. So I end it here. Thanks for your patience.


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